


Joe and the Woman Thing

by Generex



Category: Joe Biden - Fandom, Politician RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 07:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19224919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Generex/pseuds/Generex
Summary: A disturbing turn of events on the campaign trail.





	Joe and the Woman Thing

Joe stopped just inside the pitch-dark room, surprised but not afraid. It was warm and soft in here, and the door was just behind him, and this was just another meeting on the campaign trail. 

“Hello?” he said. 

He heard something like breathing. 

“Ms. Luz?”

The room smelled good, like a woman’s hair and subtle perfume. Comforting. Still, this was beginning to be absurd. Joe reached to touch the wall to his right, where the light switch would usually be. The wall seemed to be covered with cloth-type wallpaper. There was no switch, so he tried the other side. Nothing. 

“If there’s nobody here, I’ll have to move on,” he said. “Places to go, people to see, you know.” 

Silence.

He huffed, shrugged, turned, and found there was no doorknob behind him. Just cloth-covered wall, cushioned and yielding. “Umm,” he said. He pushed on it, then felt around for the edges of the door. Nothing, or rather a seamless expanse of smooth fabric. “Hello? Hello!” he called. “This isn’t funny!”

“That’s true, Joe,” a woman’s voice said, and a light came on in the ceiling.

Joe turned around. A half-circle couch, upholstered in a reddish brown, stood in the middle of the room, facing away from him. A woman sat in the middle of it, looking down at something. Her straight brown hair just brushed her shoulders, the ends a bit ragged. 

“That’s better,” Joe said, though he wasn’t really sure about that. The room had no windows, no other furniture, and – he glanced back over his shoulder – still no door. 

“I would like an explanation,” Joe said in his best firm voice. Firmness was required, sometimes, though he tried to avoid it. The necessity usually meant things had gotten out of control. 

The woman did not respond, or even move. The ceiling light was dim enough that he could see a glow from down in front of her. She must be looking at her cell phone. 

“Ms. Luz,” he said, “I don’t have time for this.” 

Finally it occurred to him that she might be wearing earbuds. Assuming she couldn’t hear him was the more generous interpretation. He certainly didn’t want to shout, considering how badly this meeting was going already. Instead he walked forward and leaned down, gently, comfortingly pressing his left hand on her left shoulder and speaking just above her right ear. “Ms. Luz, we need to get this meeting started.” 

Still no response. This close, he could hear tinny music and see the phone in her hand. It was showing a video. There was a man leaning over a seated women – wait, that was him! He straightened, intending to try to spot the camera, and discovered that he couldn’t remove his hand from her shoulder. 

“What,” he said. He tugged at his hand, then tugged harder, making the woman’s head wobble on her neck. Still she did not look around or respond. He wondered for the first time if this was some kind of dummy. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Joe,” the voice said, and it was definitely not coming from the figure that he was now, bizarrely, attached to. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, in fact. 

“Do what?” he said, trying to stay calm. 

“Walked up and touched a stranger.”

“That again?” he said, distracted by trying to get his fingers loose. 

The unseen woman sighed. “Exactly.” 

“Look,” he said, “this, whatever this is, is uncalled for. And illegal. The – how did the Secret Service not pick up on this weirdness?” 

“Joe,” the woman said, “you need to focus. You’ll get your hand loose when you can explain what you did wrong.” 

“I was just trying to get her attention!” 

“By coming up behind her and touching her.” 

“Just her shoulder!”

“Did you even consider trying another approach?” 

“Like what?” 

The woman sighed again. “This is going to be a looooong afternoon, isn’t it, Joe.”

“They’ll come looking for me.” 

The light dimmed. “I made the door disappear, Joe. Believe me, they’re not noticing you’re gone.” 

This time, he was sure the voice was coming from behind him. Awkwardly, he twisted around so that he could see her.

What he saw was a bas-relief sculpture of a pair of lips on the wall, or perhaps emerging from it. They were pinkish, like the wallpaper, and perfectly formed. 

Then the lips moved, with hints of teeth in the darkness behind them. “Are you ready to take this seriously, Joe?” 

He pulled so hard on his hand that he felt the skin stretch and threaten to tear. His breathing tightened and he heard a strange noise come out of his throat. The woman-or-dummy tilted over, threatening to drag his arm down onto the couch, and he struggled for a moment to get its limp, awkward form righted again. Then he stood there gasping, refusing to look around again. 

The woman’s voice lowered, almost crooning. “Now. Let’s talk.”


End file.
